


The Only Light

by TheGweninator



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Battle, Caves, Demons, Exploration, F/M, POV First Person, Romance, Ruins, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGweninator/pseuds/TheGweninator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisitor, Commander Cullen, and a few of the Inquisition's soldiers are trapped in a cave by a surprise dragon attack. They must decide whether they will wait for a rescue, or venture forth and brave what perils may be waiting for them in the cold darkness below.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a dream I had one night that was too cool not to turn into some kind of story.

I jogged to a halt, taking careful breaths as I leaned against the smooth cavern wall. After all, it wouldn’t do for the Inquisitor to be seen wheezing and doubled-over like an old woman. My lungs punished me for it, though, burning so intensely I wondered if that dragon hadn’t managed to set me on fire after all. My legs weren’t much better; I could already feel them starting to complain, and I knew from experience that I was in for a lot of aches later. Still, I was alive, and mostly whole. It was enough. Turning to look at the ragtag group behind me, I discreetly crossed my fingers that we didn’t have any wounded. The ambush had come as most do: without any warning. We had been especially unprepared for an attack _in our own damn war tent;_ the Venatori were ballsy bastards, that much was certain. We reacted well, though. Considering how many of their forces I had personally put in the ground, they should have known better.

No one had anticipated the High Dragon.

The damn beast came swooping out of the sky, expelling a blast of flame down the middle of our camp as casually as you’d spit out a fish bone. My best guess was it had been drawn by the scent of blood; though there really was never any telling with dragons. Everyone scattered. Under normal circumstances, I might have gathered my companions and fought the beast, but we were still reeling from the ambush and had had no choice but to break away from the main camp and run for cover as the dragon favored us with yet another pass, apparently deciding it liked its Inquisitors double-roasted.

Our panicked retreat had led us to the cave whose walls I leaned upon. By now, I wasn’t sure who half the people with us even were; most of the original group had either been wounded or gotten separated from us after the initial swoop. Once we’d started running, though, stragglers had joined us. I suppose when a damn High Dragon is trying to kill everyone, putting yourself as close to the Herald of Andraste as possible seems like a logical idea. It wasn’t as though I was going to turn them away.

Not everyone we’d escaped with was a stranger, of course. A familiar outline caught my eye amongst the huddled forms. He was crouched on a small jut of rock nearby, which surprised me. Usually Cullen was at the forefront of any situation, guiding the other soldiers and making sure everyone kept in line. Instead he was just sitting, watching but not interacting. He wasn’t even fidgeting with the hilt of his sword, which was unheard of when there were threats about. Something was wrong.

Once I finally caught my breath I went to his side, barely managing to curb the urge to run my hands through his soft curls. It was habit at this point. Maybe he noticed my hand twitch, because he looked up at me with a smile. “I’m letting them rest before we rejoin the main group.” he said. “Not many of them have ever seen a dragon before.”

“Have you?” I asked, sitting next to him.

He shook his head. “Not this close. To be honest, I think I prefer hearing about them in drunken tales and storybooks.”

“As if you read storybooks,” I scoffed playfully. He smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I noticed he was holding very still; usually by now he was leaning towards me, or reaching out for my hand. Even in front of the others, there was always something. This wasn’t right. I studied him carefully, and realized he had one of his arms wrapped around his midsection, hand conveniently half-hidden underneath the ruffled feather cloak he was so fond of wearing. Damn you, you stubborn, beautiful bastard.

“How bad is it?” I whispered, keeping my tone neutral.

He hesitated. I saw him glance over at me, and then back to the other soldiers. For a moment, I thought he might try and lie to me. But apparently he thought better of it, letting out a soft sigh instead. “Not terrible.” he said. “I’ve had worse. But...”

My stomach was already turning with anxiety. “But?”

“I will need a healer eventually.” He said it with such disdain that I almost smiled. As if somehow the thought of needing a healer offended him terribly.

“Can you still walk?”

“Yes, though I don’t think running would be wise.”

“I’ll make sure to tell our resident dragon to keep its menacing to a nice, sedate pace.”

Cullen gave me a look. “You have been spending far too much time with that dwarf,” he said.

I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t laugh. “Now, Commander. This is all purely original, true-to-my-heart sarcasm. In fact, I’m offended that you would ever think otherwise.” I glanced over at the soldiers, and saw they were all suitably distracted. Before they could notice, I leaned close, whispering into his ear. “Only the best for you, darling.” I kissed him gently on the cheek, feeling deep satisfaction as he blushed. Less satisfying was the pained wince which immediately followed. I suddenly wondered if he’d lied to me anyway, skipping over his wound’s severity to spare me worry. As if that ever worked.

I reached into my side-satchel, fiddling about with various bundles until I found the one I wanted. Sometimes my companions made jokes about how often I stopped to gather herbs and plants on our journeys, especially now that the Inquisition was long past needing me to do its footwork. But it was a habit that often came in handy, and now was no exception.

Glancing over to check and make sure the other soldiers were still distracted, I took a small square bandage from my satchel, and laid it in my palm. From another satchel, I picked a few stalks of elfroot out of a bundle, shaking a bit of dirt off the roots and then twisting them off of the stems. Looking around, I found a few small pebbles, then put everything together in my palm on top of the bandage and formed a fist. Once I’d mashed things around a bit, I squeezed it as hard as I could to get as much of the juice on the cloth as possible.

“What are you doing?” Cullen asked.

“Pull back your cloak and hold still,” I said. He raised an eyebrow, but did as I asked. Picking out the largest pieces of root from my makeshift poultice, I found the hole in his armor where the blade had found his flesh. As gently as I could, I pressed the bandage into the wound. He drew in a sharp breath but kept still; no doubt his days as a Templar had burdened him with far more painful injuries. I squinted against the faint shimmer the elfroot produced as it mixed with his blood, brighter than usual in the close darkness of the cave. It wasn’t nearly as effective as a healing potion, but it would ease some of the pain and buy time.

“Hold that there,” I told him. As his hand replaced mine, I silently promised myself to start carrying potions with me at all times instead of just when I was setting out with my companions. Cursed ambush. This couldn’t be allowed to happen again.

Our moment of privacy was not to last, of course. The soldiers were getting restless now, sneaking looks at us. Thanks to the rumor mill--and Varric--most of the Inquisition’s forces were smart enough to figure out that Cullen and I were...close. That granted us five minutes of time alone, at most. Beyond that, and people started wondering if something was seriously wrong. In this case, they were right; but there was no use in letting them know that.

I pushed away from Cullen and stood, immediately gaining their full attention, and took stock of them. Three scouts, three foot-soldiers, and one brawler wielding a two-handed axe. No mages, of course; because when has my life ever been simple? The scouts looked the calmest, which I expected from Leliana’s people. I noticed one of them was at the back of the cave, cautiously exploring the darkness with a small torch he’d lit.

“Are any of you hurt?” I asked.

“No serious injuries sustained, Your Worship!” piped up one of the foot-soldiers, a dwarven woman. She stepped forward, bloodied short sword still clutched in her hand. Streaks of the stuff stained her uniform, but from the way she proudly stood before me, I guessed that none of it was hers.

“Unless...” she trailed off, glancing at Cullen.

A sharp clatter of armor told me that he’d immediately stood up. Clearly, he was determined to give me anxiety-induced stomach cramps for the rest of the day.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Cullen demanded.

The woman straightened even further, fixing her eyes on some mysterious point just above one of the Commander’s shoulders. “Lieutenant Grey, sir. Like a Warden, though hopefully not as serious.” That earned her a few quiet chuckles from the others.

“Very good, Lieutenant. I need you to get yourself and the others ready to move out. I don’t want to stay in this cave any longer than we have to. There’s a battle out there, and I fully intend on returning to it.” _Over my dead body,_ I thought, again struggling to keep my expression in check. Grey saluted, then bowed slightly to me. I was relieved she hadn’t looked to me to make sure of the order; even though technically I outranked Cullen, he was the commander of our armed forces and it was never fun for anyone when people got confused about whether or not they should take orders from the religious figure or the master of tactics.

Just as I was starting to feel hopeful, a familiar sound reverberated through the cavern walls.

 

The dragon was back.

 

The torch-lighting scout at the back of the cave must have known something I didn’t, because he took off at a dead run for the entrance. I saw Cullen begin to pursue him out of habit, then stop cold as his wound flared. The look on his face went straight to my heart, and it was all I could do not to rush to his side. Instead, I drew my bow and nocked an arrow, pointing it towards the scout’s retreating silhouette, unsure if he was simply fleeing or getting ready to bring some kind of fresh death down upon us. We were all still shouting after him uselessly as he reached the mouth of the cave, reaching into his pocket for something and tying it to the base of the torch. Then, he stopped. I saw him twist, bringing the torch back behind him as if he were skipping a rock. A moment later, he flung the torch forward with all his strength, chucking it out into the daylight.

We all fell silent, utterly confused.

We didn’t have long to contemplate it. The scout was already turning on his heel to run back when another great keening screech filled the air, followed by the unmistakable thrum of enormous wings. My whole body tensed, re-living the sensation of dragon fire licking at my skin, and great claws coming within inches of my face. I had more than a few scars to remember their wrath by.

But today, it seemed, the creature had a different idea. Instead of landing outside the cave, as I’d expected...it landed on top of it.

Everything shook. One of the soldiers shouted a curse, stumbling in the dark. Above us, clods of dirt and rock dislodged themselves, splattering on us like raindrops. The formerly torch-bearing scout tripped and slid forward, narrowly missing an outcropping that could have easily taken one of his eyes. I put my bow away, knowing it would be useless now. The dragon bellowed another awful, shrieking cry, and even though I covered my ears with my hands, I still heard it as clearly as if I’d been standing next to it.

The world continued shaking, as though the dragon were a fussing child stomping in circles above us. Maybe it was; it certainly sounded angry enough. There came the unmistakable crack of wood as some part of its enormous body laid waste to the trees above us, and all at once I realized our peril.

“Fall back!” I shouted, waving my arms in the darkness. “Fall back, before it--”

A family of small boulders and broken tree trunks fell in front of the mouth of the cave, dropping onto the ground the way a chef might sprinkle sugar. Everything started rumbling, and I felt pebbles falling onto my hair. I was already in motion, moving forward to reach out for the torch-carrying scout, who had recovered his bearings and was now headed back to us at a dead run. I didn’t make it very far, though, before a pair of hands grabbed me and yanked me backwards, pulling me towards the darkness.

I struggled on instinct, delivering what I hoped was a very uncomfortable elbow-blow to whoever had had the audacity to touch me. Then I heard the sound of stone on stone, and felt in my bones the thunder of rocks falling exactly where I had been standing only a moment before.

The darkness increased, as did the pressure on my arms. Whoever had grabbed me was forcing me down, flipping me onto my side to unbalance me, because of course I was still flailing. My rational mind finally caught up with my instincts, and I stopped struggling as I realized that whoever had a hold on me was trying to shelter me from what was now becoming a full-blown cave-in. Fear lanced my heart. Were any of the others protected? Would I wake up from this to discover I was the only survivor, because some poor farmhand hadn’t wanted the Herald of Andraste to take a blow to the head? It was then that a familiar scent hit me, and my heart sank.

Cullen. It was Cullen who was shielding me.

This was turning out to be a very bad day.

It felt like we were moving, but surely we couldn’t be? Everything was darkness and noise. The dragon screeched again, a sound that wanted to cut through the world. I squeezed my eyes shut as clouds of dust kicked up, threatening to choke me. Someone shouted. Cullen was doing his job a little too well, pressing me against the cold stone so hard I almost couldn’t breathe. It took every shred of willpower I had not to gasp for air, making due with thin, thready breaths that made my pounding heart scream. I could feel him curled around me, gripping my arms so tightly, I knew there would be bruises later.

Belatedly, I realized his face was near my ear, whispering something; maybe my name, maybe a prayer. Maybe both. I heard him cry out once. Had something struck him? I almost started struggling again on instinct, desperate to yell at him that he was _injured_ and what in the name of Holy Andraste did he think he was _doing_ , I needed him to...

Silence.

My ears were ringing so loudly that I almost didn’t recognize the sound of it at first. It was only when I realized I could suddenly hear Cullen’s breathing that I realized everything had gone quiet. Then, a voice--was it Grey?--shouted something in a language I wasn’t familiar with. She was answered with a very loud and very colorful swear. I would have smiled, if I wasn’t so worried I’d end up with dirt in my teeth.

I pushed back gently, but Cullen didn’t move. Shit. Was he conscious? I started shaking, suddenly confronted with the terror of being trapped underneath him. His hands weren’t gripping me as tightly anymore. I pulled my arms away from his grasp. Everything was still pitch black, and I realized I could taste blood. Shit. Was it his? Or mine?

“Cullen,” I hissed, regretting the choice instantly as my mouth filled with dust. I spat out what I could and tried again. “ _Cullen._ ” Louder this time, ragged as my throat protested. The taste of blood increased. Mine, then. That was something. I heard Cullen mutter something incoherent, and I relaxed a little. Not dead or fully unconscious, then. Thank the Maker.

Since he’d tipped me over onto my side, my right arm was busy propping me up, so I eased my left shoulder back, trying not to elbow him this time. I was met with resistance, and realized I was pushing into his armor, probably somewhere around his midsection and where he’d been wounded. Not good. It was useless to try and use my arm to search for anything, lest I just keep jabbing him, so I lowered my elbow, bringing my hands together underneath me and turning so that I was on my stomach as much as I could be. When I had both hands mostly under my chest, I took as deep a breath as I dared and pushed, hoping to maybe pivot him off of me and escape.  

Years of archery had given me strength that would make an Avvar berserker blush, but it still wasn’t easy. He groaned, and I felt his weight shift a little. “Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with a dwarf!?” I growled, struggling to keep my balance. Dirt, pebbles, and clumps of dislodged roots showered around me, presumably sliding off the back of his armor. I squeezed my eyes shut against the blinding cloud of debris. Shaking, sweating, and making some kind of awful noise in my throat, I shoved.

All at once, everything gave way. I gasped, flailing my arms in what I’m sure was a truly entertaining lack of grace as I fell ingloriously on my side; the Herald of Andraste herself rolling around in the dirt like a dizzied nug. To perfect the moment, I was rewarded with a sudden and painful glare of light, followed by the silhouettes of three heads. The soldiers had found us.

“See to the Commander!” called Grey. “Lady Trevelyan, are you hurt?” She reached down to help me up. I ignored her. No sooner had I regained my balance than I was rolling over to get to Cullen, who lay on the ground beside me.

“Cu--” My throat cut me off, full of dust and my own blood. Half swearing, half coughing, I spat the excess onto the ground next to us, putting my hands on his chest to feel it rise and fall. “Cullen,” I whispered more audibly this time, tapping his cheek gently. “Wake up. Wake up.” He opened his eyes a little, but his gaze was unfocused. He mumbled something I didn’t understand and closed his eyes again.

I looked up at the Lieutenant. “He was wounded when we entered the cave. Is there a healer?”

“Is there first aid!?” Shouted Grey, and I made a mental note to promote her later. I spat again, a rage blossoming inside of me. It curled into my heart and into my bones, and soon I was trembling with the fullness of it. Blood and saliva mixed with dirt on the ground by my hand. I would find that dragon. I would kill it. I would take Iron Bull’s biggest war-axe and I would slice its scaly head off, inch by inch, and watch the light go out of its eyes.

One of the soldiers, a thin elven man who looked young enough to be my son, suddenly appeared at my side. He had a small pack with him, and he was shaking even worse than I was. But instead of going to Cullen immediately, he paused and looked up at me. “Herald, are you...”

I fixed him with a look that paled him to his very ear-tips.

He did not ask a second time, instead wisely choosing to examine the Commander. He tilted Cullen’s head, checking between the curls I so adored. “No blood,” he said. “That’s good.” Then he checked the wound at his side. “It’s not bleeding too freely. I can stop it with some bandages.” His hand dove into his pack.

From within, he drew a bundle of dried herbs tied together with twine. Even three feet away, I could smell them. They were vile, like the underside of a gurgut’s tongue, and it took every shred of willpower I had not to gag. Much to my horror, the boy did not repack the disgusting herb bundle, but instead waved them back and forth under Cullen’s nose like some kind of foul offering. My rage flared, and I raised my hand to bat them away, furious that anyone would do such a thing at a time like this. But no sooner did my hands reach the leaves, then Cullen’s eyes suddenly fluttered open.

He coughed, blinking sluggishly, taken aback by the light like I had been. Then his eyes found mine, and he smiled at me with that sleepy little half-smile I had seen on more than a few early mornings. I started to smile back, but the taste of blood on my tongue reminded me what I must look like. Instinctively I put my hand to my chin, wiping away some of the grime. “I’m horrifying,” I muttered, half to myself, half to him.

“Maybe a little,” Cullen said between coughs. He reached up to massage his temple, and winced.

I fixed him with a fake glare. “Aren’t you supposed to find me enchantingly beautiful no matter the circumstances?”

“That goes without saying.” Slowly, he slid his hand over the one I still had pressed to his chestplate, and squeezed.

I practically felt the collective sigh of relief that passed through the assembled soldiers, to say nothing of my own. Quietly, the elven lad reached into one of his pockets and produced a small square of fabric, handing it to me so I could cleanse my face. “Sit him up and keep him talking for awhile,” he said. I nodded, and he disappeared as nervously as he’d appeared. Grudgingly, I moved my hand away from Cullen’s, and Grey and I helped him into a sitting position. When he was settled, I crouched next to him, taking the cloth the elf had given me and tried to wipe off as much blood as I could. Luckily, the cut on my lip had mostly stopped bleeding, though I wasn’t looking forward to trying to eat later with the damn thing this swollen and raw.

Everyone started moving again. The scouts took enchanted crystals out of their pack and set them around the cave, providing us with a nice bit of light. Lieutenant Grey split up everyone else get the perimeter checked out. She also assigned the brawler I’d seen earlier to look at the rockslide behind us, just in case there was any hope at all of dislodging the now massive wall of dirt, boulders, and other assorted crap that the dragon had dropped on top of us. I made a mental note to come back and show that beast real wrath at a later date, cherishing a brief mental play of how thoroughly I was going to kill that scaly bastard someday.

“Are you all right?” Cullen asked, pulling me out of my reverie.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Am _I_ all right? Says the man who nearly died doing an incredibly foolish thing.”

“You were too close to the entrance,” he said matter-of-factly.

“And you would be getting yelled at right now if...” If I wasn’t so relieved you were alive. If I wasn’t trying desperately to keep my composure and not think about the What Ifs. “If we didn’t have an audience.”

He looked at me for a moment. Just...looked. “I couldn’t.” He said softly. “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t just...”

“I know.” I squeezed his hand, staring down at it as if it held the answers to every question. “I know.” We fell silent, knowing there was both too much to say, and not enough.

“Sir!” Grey’s crisp voice brought our heavy silence to a close. “The scouts have reported two tunnels leading ahead. No sign of any wildlife or...other perils.” The unspoken threat of Darkspawn hung in the air.

“The rubble?” I asked.

Grey shook her head. “Immovable, Your Worship. There is simply too much of it, and not enough of us.”

A memory suddenly clicked into place, and I realized I had forgotten something in the jumble of events since Cullen had grabbed me. “What of that scout, the one who threw the torch? Does he yet live?” I asked.

“He does, Your Worship. _Patch!_ ” No sooner had she shouted than the young man I’d witnessed before materialized at her side, saluting smartly at the three of us. Fresh blood was running down his cheek and he had what looked like the beginnings of a black eye, but he stood straight as a fencepost. “Patch, reporting as ordered, sirs.”

“Patch?” I asked.

“It’s, ah, a nickname I earned from The Nightingale.” he replied.

I raised an eyebrow. I’d have to ask Leliana about that one later. “Very well. What was that business with the torch earlier?”

“A signal, Your Worship! When I heard the dragon returning, it occurred to me the cave might collapse. I wanted to make sure our forces could find us if the entrance was covered.”

I saw where this was going. “And the thing you tied around the torch was special, wasn’t it? Something our forces specifically would recognize, but the enemy wouldn’t.”  
“Yes, Your Worship!”

I nodded. “You risked your life to do that for us, Patch. You have my sincere gratitude.”

I could swear the young man grew a few inches taller at my words. “I live to serve the Herald of Andraste!” He declared, staring proudly at the cavern wall behind me. Beside me, I thought I heard Cullen chuckle softly. I tried very hard to look...Herald-like, and not the exhausted, bruised woman I really felt like. “The Inquisition is strengthened by your service,” I repeated the words so often they came to my lips unbidden now; a rote reaction for me, a lifetime of pride for them. Fair enough trade, I supposed.

“So...all we have to do is wait for someone to search for us?” asked one of the other soldiers; a slim young woman with dark brown skin, holding a poorly repaired bow in her hands. “We’re with the Herald,” she continued. “Everyone will be looking for us. Won’t they?”

“The dragon is still out there,” Grey added, her tone solemn. “There’s no telling how far our forces have scattered to escape it. We also don’t know how widespread the Ventaori ambush was. It may be many hours yet before anyone has the ability to look for us, to say nothing of rallying the manpower it will take to shift that rockslide.”

“Maybe we should dig out as much as we can from our side, to make it easier on them,” suggested the brawler. He was dark-skinned like the slim woman but clearly much older. “It’d give us a way to pass the time, if nothing else.”

“We need food, and water,” whispered the elven boy from before, fidgeting with the buckles on his tiny pack as his eyes darted across each of us. “Especially water. And the Commander is wounded. If there’s any chance that we can find a way back to the surface, we should take it before his injury worsens.”

The energy went out of the room. Fear had made a triumphant return, and none of us were quite sure how to deal with it. Naturally, of course, that meant all eyes were suddenly on me. No one was foolish enough to mistake me for the Maker, of course...but I was the next best thing. The Herald of Andraste, who so far had saved all their lives by what probably seemed like a series of miracles. Now I just needed to perform a few more.

Even though I was still on my knees, I drew myself up as tall as I could and looked each one of them in the eyes. They all imitated me, straightening with a combination of pride and hope, ready to serve. Maker, they were so young...how did Cullen do this every single day? No wonder he was always so tired.

“Lieutenant, did you say the scouts had found tunnels leading farther into the cave?” I asked.

“Yes, Your Worship. There are two of them. Both seem clear as far as we’ve dared to go, but for obvious reasons none of us wanted to separate from the group.”

I looked over at the elven lad. “How dangerous would it be for the Commander to walk?”

His fidgeting increased. “It’s...it’s impossible to be sure, Your Worship. But I have some elfroot in my pack. If we give him a little of that every half hour or so; keep a steady pace...chances are good that he won’t be in any immediate danger.”

“I feel fine,” Cullen lied. I resisted the urge to pinch him.

I turned back towards Grey. “Send scouts down each of the tunnels. Search as far as you can, then get back to us within no more than a hour.” They would have no infallible way of keeping time in the lonely darkness of a cave tunnel, but I knew Leliana well enough to know that there was no such thing as a mediocre spy in her ranks. They would get it close enough, and meanwhile the rest of us could regroup and gather our strength for whatever lay ahead. “Patch stays here with us,” I continued. “He’s earned a rest.”

Patch’s gaze never wavered, but I could see him visibly relax at the news. “Your Worship is too kind.” He murmured.

“You have your orders, Lieutenant.” I said.

Grey saluted. “It will be done, Your Worship.” She turned away, tapping the scouts on the shoulders and beckoning them away from the others to flesh out the plan.

“You, lad,” I said, nodding at the elven boy. His eyes widened with panic, but he stepped forward. “What’s your name?” I asked.

“Nanethil, my lady.”

“Very good. Can you take a look at Patch, make sure he gets cleaned up? And anyone else who needs it, please.”

Maker help me, he bowed. This tiny slip of a child was bowing to me, the woman still covered in dirt and blood and who was silently wishing for nothing more than a bath and a warm bed to crawl into afterwards. I tried not to laugh at the absurdity of it. Nanethil grabbed Patch and scuttled away before I could say anything, which was fortunate. I’d probably never be considered holy again if half of these people knew what I was thinking.

Some of the others were still staring, so I stared back. “The rest of you, gather what supplies we have, and rest. We’re going to need our energy for whatever is ahead.” Behind them, I saw two retreating orbs of light as the scouts took their crystals into the tunnels. That left us with just two to see by. “Eat and drink, if you have anything on you.” I continued. “None of us know how long this will take.”

Some nodded, and others saluted. I looked around, memorizing each of their faces. I was proud of them. Scared for them, but proud. This wasn’t an easy situation, and so far the only person losing their grip on serenity was me...not that they knew that. They all went about their business, pairing off and finding places to sit or even lie down. One of them sat between us and the nearest crystal, throwing Cullen and I into half shadow.

“You’ll be putting me out of a job at this rate,” said Cullen, favoring me with one of those little half-smiles I found so charming. His voice was quiet, and still a little raspy from all of the dust we’d both choked on. I imagined I sounded much the same. I sighed, scooting closer to him and re-positioning my sore, stiff legs. “Good,” I said, sliding my hand into his as I settled. “After that, all I need is someone to put _me_ out of a job, and then you and I can go on vacation.”

He chuckled. “Where shall we go? Val Royeux?”

I looked at him in surprise. “Do you _want_ to go to Val Royeux? You realize it’s full of nobles, right?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, “but you thought it was pretty. It also has bathes. Lots of them.”

I blushed. “Oh.”

“No! I didn’t mean--I just thought that--of course, that isn’t to say I wouldn’t enjoy...Maker’s breath, never mind. _Not_ Val Royeux, then.”

I patted him on the arm, trying not to laugh. “We could always go visit Mia.”

He groaned. “I thought you said this would be a vacation,” he said.

“It is! Don’t you like your sister?”

“Of course I do, but she won’t leave me be until she’s dragged every single detail of my life from me by force. Considering how long I’ve been away, that will probably take her roughly a week. Not exactly restful.”

“That’s when you politely excuse yourself to go take a walk or something, and I stay behind to fill her in on all of the fascinating things we’ve done and learned about each other in the last few months.” I said, in the sweetest, most casual voice I could muster.

He paused, and I could practically feel his desperation as he searched for a way to tell me how much this idea horrified him without being rude. I was still trying so hard not to laugh, but the longer he paused, the more difficult it became. Eventually a tiny snicker escaped, followed by a larger one, and soon I had to bury my face in the feathers of his coat so I wouldn’t wake the others with my giggling. Once I started, it was like a great flood rushing out of me. I was dimly aware of how hysterical my laughter was becoming, but I couldn’t stop. The ambush, the dragon, the cave-in, everyone’s young, hopeful faces...it all came out in that laughter, pressed into his shoulder, my whole body heaving with it.

After what felt like an age, the onslaught finally slowed, and I belatedly realized Cullen was gently stroking my back. I concentrated on the simple motion, pushing away my thoughts and feelings one by one until my entire world was just the sensation of his fingers lightly following the contours of my spine. I tilted my face to the side, resting my forehead against his neck, breathing in the scent of him. My body quieted. I let everything go still, pushing away my worries and pains as best I could. There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, and there was peace in that. I closed my eyes, and let the world slip away.


	2. Descent

“Wake up,” someone whispered.

I started, coming out of my doze all at once. “What? Where?” Everything was shadowed, and I ached in places I didn’t even know I had. I blinked, clearing the sleep-haze from my eyes. Lieutenant Grey was standing in front of me, staring very pointedly at anything but me and...oh. It seemed I had snuggled up next to Cullen quite handily, clinging to him as though he were a favored pillow. My face was inches from his, making it impossible to miss the amusement in his eyes.

I coughed politely, extricating myself and attempting to regain some sense of decorum by sitting up, cross-legged; as though it were perfectly natural to receive situation reports from your soldiers on the floor of a dirty cave with sleep-drool still on your face.

“One of the scouting parties has returned, Your Worship.” said Grey. “They wish to report.”

I nodded, discreetly trying to remind my legs how to work. “Very good. I’ll see them in a moment.”

Grey hesitated.

“What is it?” I asked.

“There...there has been no word from the other scouting party.” she said.

Well, shit.

“How long has it been?”

“Almost an hour.” said Cullen, his tone solemn. We traded a look, one that had gotten a little too familiar lately.

“Then I guess we know what tunnel we’re going down.” I said.

For the first time since I’d met her, Grey looked genuinely alarmed. “Your Worship, are you...are you certain?”

“I’m not leaving good people of the Inquisition to rot in some Maker-forsaken cave tunnel, Lieutenant. If they’re trapped, then they need our help. If they’re...beyond our help, then they at least deserve a prayer said over their bodies.”

“Of course, Your Worship.” She said, snapping back into her professional stance immediately.

I stretched a knot in one of my shoulders. “Wake the others. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Dismissed.” I said.

Grey left and I sighed, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. Now that I was awake, nothing I was aware of felt particularly pleasant. The air was hot and close. My stomach cramped with hunger. My throat was bone dry. There was sweat pouring down the back of my neck--and everywhere else uncomfortable--and even though I knew I needed to get up and walk around, the idea of actually moving seemed impossible. Couldn’t I just go back to sleep on Cullen’s shoulder, and forget all of this?  
“The air’s getting thin.” he said. “We’d be in danger if it weren’t for the tunnels.”

I nodded, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. “It’s like being underwater, only I can mostly still breathe.”

“Yes, unfortunately ‘alive’ doesn’t necessarily equal ‘comfortable’. Maker’s breath, I have sweat in places I didn’t even know I had.”

I chuckled dryly. “Next time I’ll try and get us trapped in a cave with better airflow.” I sighed, tucking a stray bit of hair back behind his ear. “I guess I failed in my task to keep you awake.”

He smiled. “You needed the rest. Besides, you talk in your sleep sometimes. I have to find out your secrets somehow.”

I blushed scarlet, but couldn’t help grinning back at him. “You are in so much trouble when we get back to Skyhold.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He nudged me. “Now get moving, before you end up taking another nap.”

Taking a deep breath, I stretched one leg, then the other. They both felt like shit, but they took my weight when I stood on them. The room spun rather alarmingly for a moment, but I balanced on the wall and tried to seem dignified for anyone who happened to be looking my way. Thankfully, most of the other seemed busy doing much the same as me, though I noted with some small satisfaction that several of them managed it with far less grace.

Getting Cullen up on his feet was a more challenging task. It took three of us, in the end: me and Grey helping to pull him forward and keep him balanced, with the dark-skinned lad from earlier--whose name I learned was Barden--gently providing support as we lifted him. I slid under one of Cullen’s arms as soon as he was upright, noting with no small amount of irritation that he was refusing to put his weight on me. Because of course he wouldn’t. Gorgeous, stubborn bastard.

I put Grey and Patch on point, trusting the young girl from earlier with my bow while I was busy supporting Cullen. She stared down at it as though she thought it might come to life; I told her probably wouldn’t, though it’d give demons a run for their sovereigns. I learned her name was Sela, and that she was (thankfully) older than the looked. She loved archery, but had been ambushed on the field and forced to use her bow to block a sword-swing. I told her everything would be all right, and hoped that it would be.

I knew how risky it was to move everyone into what was essentially the unknown, but for the first time since the dragon had attacked, I felt back where I belonged. More than likely, there was a fight ahead of us, and putting a few arrows into a Darkspawn’s skull or slicing into a pack of Deepstalkers sounded fantastic. Those were threats I could face head-on, where my skill and my weapons were all that was needed instead of just...having to hope. I pushed a little closer to Cullen. Caves were just caves, and so were the monsters in them. “What Ifs” were far more terrifying.

Everyone was sweaty, exhausted, and probably cursing the day they’d ever joined the Inquisition; but by the Maker, we walked into that tunnel as crisply as if we’d been at a parade. I was so proud of them all. They hadn’t signed up for stumbling through damp caves with only a faint hope and a guttering torch to guide them. No doubt whatever had made them join us sounded far more glamourous. But if they were unhappy or scared, they didn’t show it. I only wished one or two mages had made it into the cave with us.

Cullen, myself, and Barden were all the tallest, so we clustered together in the middle; that way the others could help dislodge us if for some reason we got stuck. I prayed the tunnel would never become that narrow, but of course there was no way to be sure until it happened. I put Triston--the scout bringing up the rear of our party--on marker duty, thanking the Maker that Leliana seemed to insist on her people carrying damn-near everything with them. He had a piece of chalk in his pack that I ordered him to use every so many feet, to make sure if we were searched for, our rescuers would know where to look. He nodded and took that piece of chalk in hand as though it were a gift from Andraste herself. Everyone else was under simple instructions to go carefully and not twist any ankles. The last thing we needed was yet more injuries.

“Giving orders with you on my shoulder isn’t quite the fashion statement I’m used to making; but I think Vivienne would approve under the circumstances,” I quipped, grinning up at Cullen after we’d been moving for awhile. “I hear handsome men festooned with feather-ruffles are all the rage this year in Orlais.”

Cullen shook his head. “You should be up front, leading the charge,” he whispered.

I sighed. No fun, as usual. And he was still refusing to let me support him even though I could clearly see the pain on his face; but now he wanted to have opinions about where I should walk? “I’m exactly where I need to be.” I said.

“You’re the Herald. You can’t let them forget that.” He insisted.

“I think the weird glowing thing on my hand is a bit of a giveaway.”

“What I mean is, you don’t need to be back here...” he paused, no doubt searching for a way to put ‘wasting your time’ politely.

I didn’t give him the chance. “Anyone in the Inquisition foolish enough to stop believing in me because I choose to care for the man I love is no one I want in my ranks anyway,” I said quietly. Cullen looked shocked, but I ignored him. “And I swear by the Maker, if you don’t start putting your full weight on me, I won’t speak to you for a month.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it.  I felt him start to relax, leaning on me more heavily. Took him long enough, I thought as I shouldered the weight.

We spent the rest of the trek in silence. One of the others tried humming loudly to get a song going, but no one was in the mood. Even Cullen was starting to flag, leaning on me more and more as we went along. I had never seen him lose focus so badly before. It scared me, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. We just had to keep walking. Where I got _my_ energy from, I don’t know...but somehow I kept putting one foot in front of the other, all while mostly ignoring the growing series of aches all through my body.

The tunnel was wider than I’d expected, and full of interesting little bits of rock and even the occasional chunk of crystal. Some of it was even pretty. Sporadic clusters of Deep Mushrooms helped light our path, and I found myself wishing I could have come here under better circumstances. Quietly gathering herbs always made me feel better, for some reason.

Behind me, I could hear Sela and Barden making a game of spotting shapes in the different formations we passed. To their credit, most of their guesses weren’t even phallic, which was a wonder considering what most of the rocks looked like. I played along with them silently, grateful that someone besides me was getting some use out of my armor’s light-producing enchantments. I made a mental note to buy something extravagant for Dagna later, by way of thanks.

Keeping warm started getting difficult as we descended, but there wasn’t much we could do about it besides walk closer together. I was lucky enough to have Cullen; though with my smaller frame I don’t think I did him much good. I could see the others shivering, but no one complained. At least most of us had helmets or hoods, and that was better than nothing.

As we got deeper and deeper into the cavern, I began to wonder about the silence. I was surprised at the lack of Deepstalkers, or spiders. I’d been in enough caves to know how many creatures call them their home, and the complete absence of any form of fauna down here seemed...odd. It was a bit like walking into a forest and not hearing any birds singing. A few of the others noticed it, too, trading concerned whispers behind me. Were there Darkspawn down here after all? Or something worse?

We stopped for water at a tiny pond Patch uncovered by exploring a strange looking nook tucked away two large rocks. Nanethil warned us that drinking it was risky, but it was clear and didn’t smell bad, and at that point drinking poisoned water seemed like the lesser of two evils. My head had been pounding since before we’d left the entrance, and I knew the others couldn’t be feeling much better. I ordered everyone to take a break, slowly easing Cullen against a nearby rock with help from Barden. Nanethil insisted we limit ourselves to only two cups of water per person, and since we were literally taking our lives into our own hands, I didn’t argue with him.

I did allow extra water for clean-up, though. My earlier efforts had been a little half-hearted, and if I had to go one more minute with the feeling of dried blood chipping slowly off of my chin, I was going to start shouting and not stop until I’d exhausted every curse word I knew. As everyone sat and drank, I pulled the cloth Nanethil had given me earlier out of my pocket, dipping a tiny corner of it into my cup and wetting my chin with it. “Thank Andraste,” I whispered, reveling in the feeling of wiping away at least some of the grime coating my body. I was going to take _so_ many baths when we got back to Skyhold.

When I opened my eyes again, I caught Cullen smiling at me, clearly amused. Embarrassed, I offered him the cloth. “No, no,” he said, raising a hand. “Please continue. Far be it from me to interrupt this moment of prayer.”

I grinned. “I’m the Herald, remember? Everything I do is a prayer.” I said, swiping the rest of the blood off my chin before handing him the cloth again. It was mostly clean, though he likely wouldn’t care even if it wasn’t. “Last chance.”

He shrugged, taking the cloth and dipping it in the cup as I had. I am not ashamed to admit his deep, satisfied sigh made me shiver a little; and not because the water had been cold. He was a bit more liberal with the cloth than I had been, running it across his face and the back of his neck as well, his eyes closed. He did it slowly, as though that cloth was the only good thing left in the world. I probably shouldn’t have stared as longingly as I did... but in my defense, it was impossible not to. More than anything I wished I could kiss him properly, but with the others so nearby, such amusements were out of the question.

The rattle of chainmail and a polite cough alerted me to Grey’s presence. Reluctantly, I looked up at the Lieutenant and wondered if dwarves possessed an additional sense that told them not only what the Stone had in store for them, but when the Inquisitor was busy having incredibly inappropriate thoughts. “Yes, Lieutenant?”

“I’m...I’m afraid we've found our missing people.” she said.

Ah.

Outside, Grey and I met up with Patch--I was beginning to wonder if the man ever sat still--who held his light-rock high over two shadowy lumps that I soon recognized as bodies. I knelt beside them, whispering verses as I closed their half-open eyes and tried to figure out how they had died.

It didn’t take long. There were huge gashes along their sides and backs, as well as what looked like burns. Something with claws, then, and possibly magic? Or perhaps it was one of those rare creatures that simply had natural defenses that felt very much like magic. For a sickening moment, I wondered if it wasn’t another dragon--or even the same one. Wouldn’t that be bitter irony.

“What were their names?” I asked.

“Jordan and Lianni,” replied Grey. “Jordan had been with us only a few months. He’s from Redcliffe. Joined up after one of our people helped heal a nasty leg wound a rebel mage left him with. Lianni was quiet, kept to herself. You know how Dalish can be. I think she was from The Free Marches, though. Tantervale...or maybe it was Starkhaven? I’m...I’m not sure.” I could hear the dismay in her voice, the silent refrain of _I should have tried harder to know her_ , and felt great sympathy for the young Lieutenant. That bitter mixture of responsibility and regret was one I was all too familiar with these days.

“Blessed are they who stand against the corrupt and the wicked, and do not falter,” I murmured, double-checking to see if I had missed any further signs of violence. Grey started shivering, though whether it was from the cold or from worry, I couldn’t tell.

“Patch,” I asked, “do you have anything we could use to mark this spot? I don’t know when or if we can ever return, but in case we can, I’d like to give these two a proper burial.”

He handed his torch to Grey and rustled around in his pack for a moment. Then he produced another small glowing crystal, barely the size of a sovereign, and handed it to me. Just how many of these things had Dagna made? “It’s not much,” he said. “Just something The Nightingale sometimes hands out to those of us who might need to do a bit of reading or lockpicking in a dim room. But it’s dark enough in here that it might help.”

I nodded, taking it from him and placing it between the two bodies. Part of me worried some animal would eat it; then again I hadn’t _seen_ any animals down here yet, and it felt wrong to just leave these two people here. As I leaned between them, I took a cursory look at their necks, fingers and backpacks; looking to see if there were any personal effects that I could return to a parent or loved one when we returned to the surface.

The scout, Lianni, had nothing. I half-expected that. Leliana didn’t much care for personal effects, and the Dalish were a private people. But Jordan had a wedding band; smooth and well-worn, with a small flower engraved on the outside. I slipped it into my pocket, listening to its soft tink as it landed against a certain ivory good-luck charm I always kept close. My heart started hammering in my chest as I looked down at his cold, contorted face. _No. It won’t happen. I won’t let it happen. I refuse to live in that world,_ I told myself. _I refuse._

Swallowing my feelings, I stood; giving the nod to Patch and Grey. We returned to the others.

I gave the order to ready up, then went to Cullen’s side without hesitation. Barden and Grey both reached out to help, but I ignored them. Helping him to his feet was awkward with just me, and reminded me how sore my body was, but I ignored that, too. We managed. I slid my shoulder underneath his arm just as before. Neither of us said anything, but he must have been able to read my expression; there was none of his usual stubbornness this time. Just acceptance, and a gentle squeeze. With my free hand I returned the gesture.

We made our way back out into the tunnel again, sometimes having to walk almost single-file as it narrowed and widened periodically. Time lost its meaning. Everything became a blur of steady footsteps, clanking armor, glowing mushrooms, and the sound of dripping water. Nothing stirred. No one spoke. I started to hear my own heartbeat thrumming in my ears. My mind kept playing images of dead scouts and forgotten mementos; then flickered back to the emptiness surrounding us. It gnawed at me. There should be _something_ alive down here. Where was everything?

About the fifteenth time I’d had that thought, an odd smell met our noses, coupled with a cool breeze that made us all shiver both with excitement and cold. “A way out!” cried Sela. “It has to be, right? Where else would the wind come from?”

“It smells _awful_ ,” said Nanethil.

“I don’t care how it smells. Anything’s better than being stuck down here from now until Satinalia.” said Barden. I couldn’t help but agree.

“Stay focused, everyone,” I said. “We don’t know what’s waiting ahead of us. Be hopeful, but don’t be sloppy.”

“Yes, Your Worship!” they all cried in unison. Maker.

Everyone started whispering all at once, their newfound excitement lending them energy. My mind kept hooking on something; some detail I’d forgotten. Something here seemed familiar, but I was so tired I couldn’t place it. Cullen was worrying me, too. He kept wobbling; sometimes putting his weight on me all at once, then taking it off again as though he’d caught himself. His breath was getting more ragged, too, and this close I could see his skin taking on an unhealthy pallor. This had to be our way out. If it wasn’t, then it was going to be his grave.

_I refuse to live in that world._

 

As if on cue, my hand started glowing.

 

It hissed to life in a rush, making Cullen and I both jump. Everyone ground to a halt, several of us nearly knocking into one another. All eyes were on me. The Anchor’s green glow was unmistakable, as was its meaning.

“Well, shit.” I said.

No one disagreed.

Mentally, I kicked myself. Of course the smell was familiar. Rifts took on a strange scent sometimes, and maybe it was stronger when they were underground, because the one in Crestwood had reeked of it. Something about demons made the air a little sharper; harsher. And of course, the animals had either been killed or had run away as soon as the Rift opened. I hated myself for not piecing everything together sooner.

Grey was at my side now, vibrating with energy. “Orders, sir?” she asked, as all eyes expectantly rested on me. Whenever the Anchor flared, I knew I was no longer the Inquisitor, or even Lady Trevelyan--I was the Herald of Andraste, the One True Light in the darkness. Quite literally, this time. Even Cullen had gone still, waiting to see what I would say.

And just what _were_ my orders? Sending scouts ahead might help us get an idea of what waited for us in the darkness. Then again, it might just get more people killed. Without my companions here, I knew I’d need every able-bodied soldier I had in order to close the Rift. One-to-one, I knew I could take most anything. But since this Rift was underground, forgotten by the surface world, it could have been open for months, spitting out demons left and right. Even I wasn’t skilled enough to take on a group that size by myself with only my bow and arrow. That meant we had to all go together.

“Fighters, upfront! This tunnel has to end eventually, and when we get there, I want everyone in a semicircle with weapons ready. We secure our wounded and then we move forward. There’s probably a crowd down here, which means I need every single one of you to do whatever it takes to stay alive. No heroics. I’ll try and find higher ground and keep you all covered, then close the Rift once it’s clear. Understood?”

“Yes, Your Worship!” They all chanted at once.

I stepped back to make room so everyone could re-position. Beside me, Cullen was practically vibrating with tension. I looked up at him, and saw long lines of sweat trailing down his cheeks and neck. His lips were moving, forming soundless words in the half-light. “Cullen?” I whispered. He didn’t respond, eyes flitting back and forth around the tunnel, like he was expecting something to jump us at any moment. “Cullen?” I repeated, squeezing him a little. “Are you all right?”

My touch snapped him out of his reverie, but the way he looked at me wasn’t comforting. “What?” he asked, sounding like I’d startled him. “What’s wrong?”

“That’s what I’m trying to ask _you_ ,” I said.

“It’s...it’s nothing.” He wouldn’t keep eye contact as he said it, his eyes already skimming the darkness behind my head.

I frowned at him. “Cullen...”

“It’s nothing.” His voice was barely a whisper.

I started to reach up to touch his face, but stopped myself as I realized I would probably make him jump all over again. So I held still instead, muscles aching from keeping the same pose for so long. Part of me wished I hadn’t been so insistent about him leaning on me. No sooner did I have the thought then he sagged against me, the tension he’d been holding in suddenly releasing. He made a noise somewhere between a groan of pain and a growl of frustration, hauling himself back up quickly.

“ _Cullen_.” I was louder this time, and Nanethil suddenly appeared. Without prompting, the young elf crouched beside him, fiddling with Cullen’s cloak.

“I’m fine,” Cullen growled. “I just lost my balance. Stop this pointless fiddling!” He reached out as if to bat Nanethil away.

“You will hold your position, Commander,” I snapped, glaring at him. My sudden change in tone seemed to surprise him, and he blinked at me as if coming out of a stupor. Around me I could feel everyone had gone very still. “You are wounded and that injury needs tending to, regardless of your personal opinion on the matter.” I said, more softly this time.

Before Cullen could respond, I heard Nanethil make a sharp, disapproving noise. “The wound’s reopened. He’ll need new bandages,” he said.

“Do we have time for that?” asked Sela, coming up beside me. Everyone immediately looked at the Anchor again.

“No, we don’t.” said Cullen. We traded a look, and I felt like we were back in the cave entrance all over again. But I was the Inquisitor, and if there was any chance of us getting out of this alive, now was not the time for me to hesitate.

“You have your orders.” I said, looking everyone straight in the eye. “Move out.”


	3. Demon

It didn’t take us long to spot the Rift.

The tunnel ended abruptly, widening out into a smooth “clearing” of rock that overlooked an even larger area shrouded in darkness. What was not shrouded, however, was a tall, weathered staircase winding around what looked like an old stone tower that had been snapped in half and left to rot. Above this tower floated the warped, yellow-green vagueness I’d come to associate with some of the most desperate fights of my life. The Rift. My mark fizzed anxiously with the nearness of it. As I’d feared, it was wide open, which meant that somewhere in the darkness beyond, demons were lurking.

“Are those...buildings?” asked Sela, tiptoeing past me to peer over the edge of the clearing.

“Keep your voice down!” hissed Patch. Sela jumped, rushing away from the edge and nearly tripping herself to do it. Grey reached out and caught her just in time. “Stop scaring the new recruits, you old curmudgeon.” she said.

Patch glared at both of them. “Keep them quiet and I won’t have to.”

“Enough,” I said. Everyone stilled. “I don’t know about what’s down there, but the thing under the Rift was clearly a tower once. You don’t usually have towers without something else beneath it.”

“Who would build something down here? We aren’t deep enough for dwarves,” said Barden. Without thinking, we all glanced at Grey for confirmation.

She just shrugged. “Dwarves are like any other race, you know. Sometimes they do weird shit no one understands. Or, maybe some humans thought they’d try their hand at living with the Stone.”

“Do we have to go down there?” asked Triston.

Patch shook his head. “We shouldn’t just leap into the unknown. Especially not in the dark.”

“But what if we--”

“I’m just as curious as the rest of you,” I said, interrupting. “But we really don’t have time for this. It won’t be long before we’re noticed. I’ve got to get to the Rift and close it before any more demons can come through.” _And before the man I love bleeds to death,_ I added silently. I looked up at Cullen. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet during this conversation, and his eyes were still darting back and forth like they had in the tunnel. Being here disturbed him. I didn’t blame him. Trapped in the dark with a lot of demons scrabbling about was probably a little too much like one of his nightmares for comfort. We needed to move, and soon.

“Patch, Triston; scout ahead as safely and as quietly as you can. I want to make sure we’re not walking into any traps. Sela, Grey, Barden; set up a perimeter. Sound the alarm if anything besides our scouts moves. If you’re feeling ambitious, hack whatever it is to bits after you shout. Nanethil, I need you here. Understood?”

They all saluted. I nodded at them, and they moved out.

As soon as they turned away, I steered Cullen towards the nearest wall, hoping to gently set him down against it. Nanethil approached, already fishing new bandages and elfroot out of his pack. We were lucky: there was a large stone slab set into the side of the wall, at a perfect height for Cullen to sit and then lay on. Maybe once it had been an oversized bench or--Maker forbid--an altar, but now it was just an ugly, flat piece of rock. Still, it would be both safer and easier for Cullen. As we maneuvered him towards it, I noticed a small bridge not far from us. It looked like it led up to the abandoned tower.

Cullen’s face was set in a furious grimace as Nanethil and I eased him onto the slab. I hated seeing him like this, and I hated not knowing whether or not I was going to get him out of here. Maker, why did it have to be him? There could have been a hundred Darkspawn waiting for us down here and I would have dove into the fray with a smile; but this very simple thing might be beyond me.

Trying to distract myself, I took a moment to stretch. It felt strange not having him next to me anymore, though the growing knot in my shoulder was grateful. My whole arm felt like it had been stretched around a mountain and then clumsily plugged back into my torso; pulling back a bowstring was going to be fun. That was when I realized that Sela still had my bow. “Maker’s breath,” I muttered, turning to Nanethil and Cullen. “Will you two be all right here for--”

“ _Demon!_ ” shouted a voice.

Naturally.

Cullen was already reaching for his sword as I heard the shriek of the first demon, followed immediately by the scream of one of our people. Someone started cursing, and then I heard the roar of a second demon. Firelight flashed in the ruined city below, illuminating crumbling walls and hungry, Fade-touched eyes. Close by, I saw the familiar streak of an arrow loosed from my enchanted bow, shining white with the power of Dagna’s finest demon-slaying runes, and watched as it buried itself deep inside one of the many eyes on a Terror Demon’s face.

“ _Get back!_ ” I shouted, knowing what came next. The Terror Demon shrieked again, slashing a bright green hole in the earth and diving into it. A corresponding hole formed on the edge of the perimeter. In its light, I clearly saw the silhouette of Sela, my bow half-drawn in her hands.

I reached for Cullen’s sword, but it was fighting me, refusing to come free at this awkward angle. I could feel his fingers fumbling over mine, trying to help and failing. We both swore loudly. Nanethil had vanished, and I was about to include him in my swath of wrath when I saw his lithe shape flinging itself towards Sela. No sooner had the Terror Demon’s ghastly head begun to emerge, then Nanethil slammed into Sela, shoving her to safety just in time.

Unprepared, she tripped again and sprawled forward, bow sliding out of her grasp. Nanethil was not so lucky. The Terror Demon’s claws gripped him greedily, holding him fast at the neck and waist. I could have sworn I heard the creature laugh as it jiggled its lazy, razor-toothed maw over his skin, before bending forward as if to kiss him. Nanethil screamed.

Swordsmanship was not my strong point. I was an archer, through-and-through. After all, what good was a blade to me when I could bury an arrowhead in a warrior’s eye at fifty paces? But Cullen and Cassandra both insisted that everyone in the Inquisition had at least a rudimentary understanding of swordplay. And so I had gone, spending many a chilly Skyhold morning shivering and sleep-deprived. And I had learned.

I blessed both their names with every fiber of my being as I finally loosed Cullen’s sword from its sheath and sprang forward.

Nanethil was fighting back now, twisting in the Terror Demon’s grasp as he tried desperately to escape. I could see it toying with him, letting him gain a little ground before pulling him back in. It wanted the maximum amount of fear out of him before it finally laid down the killing blow. Nanethil made a horrifying noise as the creature bent forward again, jagged teeth worrying at one of his ears. The arrow Sela had fired into its eye was still in place, bouncing up and down comically as the demon lapped up its handiwork.

The creature’s greed was my advantage, though. Shouting a prayer, I gripped Cullen’s sword in both my hands and put all of my momentum into the swing. I knew Cullen’s blade was too heavy for me, even with years of archery bolstering my muscles. But I also knew that I could make its weight work to my advantage, and with no small amount of satisfaction I watched as its fine edge sliced through the air, narrowly missing Nanethil’s heaving chest and burying itself deep in the Terror Demon’s neck.

The demon reared back, shrieking. I pulled the blade away, cursing the thing’s tough skin. The jolt from the blow made my arms feel like water, and I had been mere inches away from a full decapitation. The demon momentarily lost control of its claws, though, and that meant it lost control of Nanethil. It dropped him ingloriously on the ground, and Nanethil scrambled away as soon as he touched stone. I skirted around the pool of blood he left behind him, careful not to lose my footing in it, and readied for a second blow.

The Terror Demon was dazed now, slumped against the ground like an old woman. But I didn’t let its torpor fool me. It was already beginning to lift itself back up, pivoting its back legs forward in front of it, using them as if they were arms, pushing itself up off the ground. Its eyes gazed hungrily at my throat, and I knew I was its only purpose in life now. Battle-lust sang in my veins, sweet and pure; this was only going to end one way.

I wasted no time, springing to the side and jogging towards its shuddering body, once again putting all of my momentum behind my swing. From afar, I could hear the unmistakable growl of a Rage Demon, followed by a shout and a very loud recitation of the Canticle of Trials. Time seemed to slow. The Terror Demon was already regaining its strength, snarling and reaching forward to spread open another tear in the world so it could escape.

I didn’t give it the chance.

But I wasn’t the only one. Sela had regained her balance again, kneeling on the floor beside us as she pulled back my bow in a full draw. At point-blank range, there was no way she would miss. I felt a swell of pride as I watched her bury yet another arrow in the Terror Demon’s head. This one went straight through its skull, as though its body were made of wet cloth. Its green skin withered and turned black around the edges of the shaft, burned to an ashy crisp by the bow’s enchantment.

And yet, it still refused to die. As I swung Cullen’s sword forward, ready to plunge it into the beast’s chest, it lumbered towards me, claws swinging wildly in the hopes of catching on flesh. I ignored them, shoving Cullen’s sword through the demon’s ribcage and putting my full weight behind the blow. I felt the blade pierce clean through, carrying me forward with it until I was inches away from the demon’s face.

I spat on its teeth and watched the light go out of its eyes.

The body was already dissolving as I straightened, pulling Cullen’s sword out of the swirling blue-green mists and checking it for damage. Not even so much as a stain. Satisfied, I turned towards Sela, helping her to her feet. Together, we went to find Nanethil.

He had crawled back over to the stone slab, where Cullen had one hand clamped on his shoulder, presumably to keep him upright. Nanethil’s entire body was shaking, wracked with silent heaving sobs as he sat, clutching his ravaged ear. There was blood all over the floor now, dripping from the many cuts the demon had left him with. Poor bastard. He’d be reliving this one in his nightmares for awhile. I knew the feeling.

I knelt beside him, whispering his name and gently cupping his cheek. His tremors stilled a little, but he wouldn’t look me in the eye. I whispered soothing nonsense at him and removed the shredded lump of his pack from his shoulder. The foul herbs from earlier spilled out first, followed by a small packet of elfroot, a few small vials and the bandages he had promised to use on Cullen earlier.

I handed everything to Sela. “Patch them up as best you can.” I told her. “He’ll walk you through it,” I said, looking to Cullen. She looked from the shreds of cloth to the Commander as though one or both of them might set her on fire.

Cullen caught my eye, and all at once I could feel every ounce of his frustration and fear. Lying on that slab while I fought alone against endless horrors was killing him just as surely as the wound in his side.

“Don’t worry,” I said, lifting the sword to my chest with an expression far more cheerful than I felt. “You kept me safe, just like you always do.” Slowly, he gave me one of his little half-smiles.

Behind us, I could hear the sounds of battle continuing to rage, and I knew the others couldn’t hold out much longer. I leaned forward, placing the sword on Cullen’s chest. His hand brushed mine, holding it against him for a moment. “Be careful,” he whispered. I kissed him, pouring my whole heart into that brief second, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time I ever could.

Sela handed returned my bow, awkwardly curtsying to me as I took it from her. “Blessed are the peacekeepers,” she whispered, staring up at me as though I were wreathed in Andraste’s holy flame. “Maker watch over you, Herald.”

“And you, Sela.” I glanced over at the men. “Keep them safe.”

“Yes, Your Worship.”

As soon as I had my bow in my hand, I ran at full speed towards the sound of the fighting. Lucky for me, there was more light now. Fires burned along the old, abandoned streets; most likely bits of forgotten detritus in the old houses that had caught at the Rage Demon’s passing. I prayed none of the fires were the bodies of my soldiers. But there was hope. Someone was still reciting Trials very loudly, and I also heard the occasional swear in what sounded like Grey’s voice. The steady _whack-thud, whack-thud_ of metal against demonflesh told me that Barden was likely still alive. Greataxes aren’t exactly the most subtle weapons, and I’d been around Iron Bull long enough to learn the sound of them.

I skidded to a halt at the end of the “platform” we’d entered on, finding that it was actually like a great balcony, complete with crumbling decorative arches sweeping upwards from the floor. In front was a shallow-stepped staircase, wide enough for a horse and cart to pass. What in the Maker’s name _was_ this place? If we lived, I’d have to send Solas down here. Maybe he could take one of his little naps and figure it out.

There wasn’t time to contemplate it now, though. I had demons to kill. I took a deep breath, planting my feet and spreading my weight. My arms were shaking and my back felt like the Terror Demon had raked its claws down every muscle I had, but the battle-lust was singing in my ears again and I knew I still had a few notes left in me. It was either this, or I watched these foul creatures tear open the throats of everyone in this cave; and I refused to live in that world.

My first and most obvious target was the Rage Demon, whose molten skin was impossible to miss in this pitch-black world. It was clawing at someone with a two-handed axe in their hands--Barden, presumably--and it was starting to win. Time to turn the tables, then. I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I aimed at the Rage Demon’s bulbous head. Sing, sing, sing. I let the arrow fly, almost laughing in triumph as the demon’s skin went dark when I hit it. I’d stunned it and burned it at the same time. _Not so much fun when it’s you on the other side, is it?_ I thought.

My arms were well and truly shaking now, so the next arrow was a long shot. But through the Maker’s grace, it landed just as securely as the first, carving out a chunk of the Rage Demon’s lava-like flesh as it hit.

Barden finally snapped out of his battle haze long enough to realize what was happening. He let out a triumphant shout. “It’s the Herald!” he cried. All at once there was a wave of answering cheers, and my heart skipped a beat. I was here with them, and they with me. We could not fail so long as we still had strength within us.

Renewed, I lined up my next few shots, burying arrow after arrow into the Rage Demon’s fleshy head. Its torpor didn’t last long, but by the time it started thrashing around again, it was too late. Between my attacks and Barden’s, the foul creature had no hope. It disintegrated into the ground with one final angry bellow, and by the time its remains were fizzling into the air, I was already scanning the ruins for my next target.

I swung left, following a trail of sparks and shrieks that I took to be swordplay against the claws of yet another Terror Demon. But the oppressive darkness meant there was no clear shot. I needed light, and I needed it fast. “ _Barden!_ ” I shouted as loud as I possibly could, “Go West! Bring flame!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his silhouette reach down and grab one of the burning bits of rubble, running full tilt towards the other battle. My battle-lust was singing loudly now, and it was all I could do not to loose that arrow into the darkness, consequences be damned. My muscles screamed, begging for release and rest. Chopping into that other Terror Demon had been harder on me than I’d realized. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to be still.

The Maker must have blessed Barden with extra speed, because he crossed those ruins so quickly, it would have put a herd of Halla to shame. The flame he carried was small, but it was enough. It was indeed a Terror Demon, and it was Grey and Patch who were fighting. Barden tossed the makeshift torch on the ground beside them, rushing forward with his greataxe. I didn’t wait for him to land his first blow.

My first arrow landed directly inside the Terror Demon’s gaping mouth as it leaned forward to bite at Grey. I smiled as I watched it stumble in confusion. No sooner had the arrow hit than Patch, Grey, and Barden pushed the advantage; hacking into the creature’s limbs with a fevered tenacity. I buried three more arrows in the demon’s skull. It was missing its limbs by the time it finally went down. Everyone cheered as it disappeared in a wave of light blue smoke.

My hand fizzed, and I could feel the Rift behind me pulsating, as if in fear. Good. Time to end this, then. I turned to face it, already slinging my bow behind my back. No sooner had it slotted into place, then four shivering arcs of bright green light sprang forth from the Rift; one in the tower, and the other three in the ruins below. My heart sank. Tears in the world began to open, letting in more demons. I could already hear them screaming, eager to emerge. I pulled my bow forth again and notched another arrow, aiming at the tear in the tower, expecting another Rage or Terror Demon to come forth.

The unmistakable silhouette of a Revenant appeared.

What little heat there was in the room instantly vanished. Immensely tall, with curving, spiked armor that radiated malevolence; the Revenant hefted its sword and shield, blood-red eyes snapping towards me like I was a fish on its line. The creature’s dark skirts billowed, rippling through the air as it marched forward, footsteps falling like doom itself. The writhing shadows underneath its helmet whispered soft promises of death inside my mind. I froze, utterly shocked, staring in disbelief at its hideous form.

And then I heard the sound of armor clattering, and somehow everything got worse.

Cullen was sliding off the stone slab, staggering forward with the sword in his hands. He motioned for Sela and Nanethil to move back, his face eerily pale in the reflected light of the Rift. His jaw was set, and I could tell he meant to die defending us; defending me.

The Revenant sensed this instantly. I saw it turn its head away from me and towards him, happy to have a little snack before it made a meal of the Inquisitor. No doubt spurring my rage by killing my companions would make me an even finer prize; oh, how its power would grow with my burning soul inside its belly.

Not today.

I raised my bow, firing wildly at its hulking silhouette, strafing as fast as I dared towards Cullen. The air was like ice, and I swear I could feel the cold slowly freezing my lungs. There was still some time before the Revenant got close enough to the bridge to be a real threat; but I also knew from experience that they could force you to get a lot closer before you were ready. What I wouldn’t have given to have Cassandra with me right now.

By the time the Revenant had reached the start of the bridge, I was running. I reached Cullen’s side in seconds, dropping my bow and quiver on the ground beside him.

“Give me the sword,” I demanded.

“You can’t fight that thing,” he wouldn’t look at me.

“Cullen, you can barely stand. _Give me the sword._ ”

“I won’t let you--”

“You don’t _let_ me do anything. And if this is your grand plan, then you might as well stick that thing in both of our hearts now and spare everyone the trouble.”

That got his attention. He looked over at me, horrified. “I would never--”

“And yet you’re ready to do it to yourself, as if somehow you aren’t a part of me?”

We stared at each other for a moment that we probably didn’t have, and for a wretched few seconds, I feared that he wasn’t going to give in. But then he nodded, handing over the sword. His hands were the only warmth in the room, and I squeezed them without even thinking. “Maker go with you,” he whispered.

I stepped forward.

The Revenant paused, perhaps surprised by my sudden advance. It was hovering in the middle of the bridge now, watching me, radiating bitter cold and hatred. Behind me I could hear the sounds of my soldiers carrying on the fight, and I prayed that they had the strength left in them to live. I also prayed that I had the strength to do this foolish thing, because if I didn’t, then everyone was going to die.

I raised my sword.

A strange sense of calm settled over me. I had heard Cullen describe it before, from his days as a Templar. A sort of breaking point when things have gotten so horrible that there really isn’t anywhere to go but forward. Apparently there had been a few such moments in Kirkwall. I honestly thought I had already had several of them, what with my life so packed full of demons, dragons, and other weird shit.

But this...this was different. I wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. It almost felt like simply being practical. What I did here was going to decide our fates, which meant I had best get on with it. Nothing more, nothing less. It was almost soothing, in a way.

I ran towards the Revenant, sword poised and ready. The demon recovered itself from its brief pause, reaching out to me with its gauntleted hand. I knew it was going to try and pull me. There really wasn’t anything I could do to stop it, so I just braced myself, doing my best to maneuver my sword into a position that would keep me from unintentionally impaling myself.

Sure enough, a second later, its eerie power hit me square in the chest; suddenly it was as though invisible hands were digging into every bone in my body. I was wrenched forward, stopping only when my body slammed against the front of the Revenant’s armor. The metal was like ice, and burned me with cold where my bare skin met it. I cried out in fury and pain as I fell back onto the floor, pushing myself away with my feet before it had a chance to grab me again.

A swooping sound alerted me to the oncoming blow of its sword, and I rolled to the left, the sword sparking as it hit the ground where my head had just been. Lovely. I pushed myself off the ground. No sooner had I regained my footing, then something went whizzing past my head. An arrow bounced off the Revenant’s helmet, and I instantly recognized the glimmering white shine of my bow’s demon-slaying enchantment. Surprised, I chanced a look behind me.

Cullen was on his knees, my bow in his hands, already reaching into my abandoned quiver to notch another arrow. Drawing it like that must have been agony for him, but in his face I saw the same cold determination that I had gained. We were in this together now.

The Commander was no archer, but I trusted him to have decent enough aim not to shoot me in the back. I used his moment of distraction to my advantage, swinging my sword at the exposed spot of the Revenant’s left arm, in the hopes of getting it to drop its own weapon. My swing went wide at first, but I used a trick Cassandra had taught me to redirect the momentum and cut _up_ instead of down.

It worked. My sword found the warped flesh of the Revenant’s underarm and bit in hard. The creature made no sound, but I could feel its rage. The temperature dropped again, my breath a puffy white cloud against the Revenant’s glimmering armor. It turned its blood red eyes to me, trying to free itself from my blade; but I was underneath its arm now, cutting up towards what would have been its armpit if it were human. As it struggled to push down and strike at me, I dug in harder, grinning a little at how I’d thrown it off balance. Then I saw its shield coming towards me, ready to hit me in the head and stymy my assault.

I heard a strangled and furious cry, and then another arrow appeared. This one hit its mark better than the first, striking the Revenant right in one of its eyes.

This time, the demon made a noise. I felt that scream in my bones, echoing like high-pitched thunder. I’ve stood next to dragons that were quieter. The Revenant reeled backwards, my sword sliding out of its flesh, a spray of dark blood splashing onto the ground. No sooner was I free of the Revenant’s body then another arrow flew past, this one landing in its exposed chest.

I didn’t need any further encouragement. With a yell, I pointed the tip of my sword towards its chest and lunged forward, thrusting into what I hoped was its heart with all of my strength. The blade went through, piercing the Revenant with surprising ease. It started flailing; trying to bring its own sword to bear but unable to be precise with it thanks to the wound I’d created.

The shield was more accurate, though. No sooner had I plunged Cullen’s sword into the Revenant’s chest, then it came crashing down against the side of my head; two blows in quick succession. My head swam, bright lights blossoming behind my eyes. Swaying, I clung to the hilt of the sword, desperate to stay upright and regain my momentum before the next blow landed. The Maker was with me. Just as the shield came down for another blow, I reversed directions, pulling the sword out of its chest and stumbling backwards just in time to miss the blow that likely would have bashed my skull in.

The Revenant sagged. I could feel its grip on the world fading, and knew it was now or never. With an angry shriek of my own, I lunged, putting every ounce of strength I had left into a furious series of blows designed to disorient and wound my opponent. At first, the Revenant tried to block me with its shield, but I was moving so quickly and so randomly that it couldn’t possibly keep up. Blow after blow landed on its head, neck, arms, chest; anywhere there was exposed flesh.

It fell to its knees, blood-red eye glaring into mine. I paused, panting and shivering in the cold. Heat rose off of me like smoke; demon’s blood dripping rhythmically from my blade. My arms were shaking so badly, that for a terrifying moment I thought I might not be able to finish this. But from somewhere deep within, I found the strength to raise my arm for one final blow. I saw its remaining eye follow the motion, pure hatred dancing in its gaze like fire.

I brought the sword down with one final desperate cry, slicing the Revenant’s head from its shoulders. A moment later, its body dissipated like smoke; its armor and weapons clattering to the ground with a great crash. A moment after that, the blue haze took hold. This close the Rift, the Revenant’s remains simply...drifted back into it, like ash carried on a lazy breeze.

I swayed, the battle-song in my heart suddenly silent. Its passing left me empty and weak. My body had been pushed to its limits and beyond; now I felt like I could barely stand, much less fight. As soon as the Revenant’s essence reached it, the Rift turned bright green, its form loosening and stretching until it looked almost like a literal veil. The other demons had been defeated too, then. There was nothing left to do but close it before more came through. The Anchor was already starting to tingle, as if anxious to begin its work.

I raised my hand, reaching out towards the Veil and pulling, yanking shut the invisible curtain between this world and The Fade. Solas would probably sneer at me for thinking of it in such clumsy terms. Oh well. Whatever it took to get the job done.

Just like that, it was done. The eerie green light of the Rift vanished, leaving behind it a small pile of ash... and darkness. Now the only light was the enchanted glow of my armor now, as well as what few enchanted arrows Cullen had missed with.

_Oh, shit._

I whirled around, almost falling flat on my face as my legs tried to give way beneath me. With a growl, I forced them forward, staggering along the stone bridge until my armor’s light revealed Cullen’s face.

He was still on his knees, my bow on the floor beside him. I dropped his sword on the ground next to it. Cullen was staring at me blankly, looking even more exhausted than I felt, but he was alive. We were both alive. How in the name of Andraste had we managed that? With a lack of grace that would have scandalized every faithful believer in the Inquisition, I let my knees finally buckle and collapsed in front of him, wrapping my arms around him. He answered in kind, albeit stiffly, and soon it felt very much like we were propping each other up.

“Are you all right?” we both asked in unison.

I laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I am now,” I whispered.

He leaned into me, sighing softly. “Maker forgive me, I honestly didn’t think we’d survive that.”

“In your defense, that really wasn’t the sort of situation most people survive.”

“Please don’t ever do anything like that ever again.”

I thought of the endless parade of deadly encounters my life had become, and sighed. “I’ll do my best,” I said.

“Your...Your Worship?” ventured a voice from the shadows. I looked up from where I had happily buried my face in Cullen’s feathery ruff, and just barely made out Sela fidgeting in front of me.

Oh, Maker. _The soldiers._

My mind ordered me to spring up onto my feet instantly and run to assist, but my body was like a stone. A very heavy stone that very much did not want to move. That was also supporting an even heavier, curly-haired stone. To say my attempted ascent was absolutely graceless would be generous. Cullen and I wobbled dangerously for a moment, regaining our balance at the last second while Sela looked on, staring at us as though she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry. Eventually he and I settled back into clinging to one another awkwardly, though I really could have done without his fingers digging painfully into one of my ribs.

“You will never speak of this moment, Recruit,” Cullen growled.

“Y-yes, Commander!” I could practically hear the fervent prayer for mercy behind her words. I tried not to giggle hysterically and embarrass either of them any further.

“What is it?” he snapped.

“Sir it’s...I mean, well, it’s just...”

“ _Spit it out._ ”

I gave him a _don’t be so mean_ nudge.

Bless her heart, Sela somehow found the courage to continue. “The others haven’t returned yet, and I...I think I need help with Nanethil.”

“Does he yet live?” I asked.

“Yes, Lady Trevelyan. But he won’t speak to me. And I don’t know how much blood he’s lost but it seems...it seems like there’s a lot.”

By itself, a missing ear wasn’t likely to cause serious problems, but then again I hadn’t exactly gotten the chance to examine Nanethil properly after his run-in with the Terror Demon. As for the others...my stomach turned. Anything was possible.

“Can you stand?” I whispered to Cullen. He looked at me with exhausted eyes, and shook his head _no_. I nodded, giving him an encouraging squeeze on the arm.

Slower this time, I extricated myself from him, having Sela help keep him upright while I tried to stand. It was an agonizing process. My legs had fallen asleep even in the brief time I had been on my knees, and I had to massage my thumbs across them just to get the blood flowing again. Without me to hold him, Cullen looked torn between passing out, or throwing up. Not that I felt much different. With our adrenaline was gone, there wasn’t much keeping either of us together now except pure spite.

Once I was safely able to move my arms and legs, I used Sela’s emptied backpack as a makeshift pillow, and with her help gently lowered Cullen onto the ground. Not the best accommodations, but it simply wasn’t possible to carry him back to the slab. _This is what I get for loving--what did Dorian call him again?_ I thought. _A strapping young Templar? Oh well. Life’s full of trade-offs._ I gingerly checked his side, and was dismayed when my fingers came back sticky with blood. I tore the largely decorative fabric belt off of my midsection, wrapping it as tightly around his waist as I could. He gave me a weary nod. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll hold.”

I smiled at him. “You’d better.”

Once he was settled, I left Sela with instructions to keep Cullen talking, and went to go find Nanethil. There wasn’t much I could do for the young elf, but it seemed cruel to just leave him lying around in the dark.

Sela was right: He didn’t look good. I found him crouched near where we’d come in, huddled in the shadows, rocking back and forth. He was still cradling his ear, and I saw rivulets of blood coursing between his knuckles. Sela must have tried giving him some kind of bandage, though, for a blood-soaked rag rested just underneath his fingers. His eyes were unfocused and glassy, staring ahead as though he were watching a play that no one else could see.

“Nanethil?” I whispered, slowly kneeling beside him. My legs flared in agony, but what else could I do? I wanted to touch him, but was afraid it might startle him. “Nanethil, can you hear me?”

No response.

Eventually I tried touching him anyway, my fingers barely brushing his shoulder. He shuddered, but offered no protest. I reached for his ear next, hoping I could perhaps pry one of his fingers away and see the extent of his wounds. But no sooner did my hand start to move, than he whimpered loudly, shying away from me as though I meant to beat him. “It’s all right,” I said, instantly pulling my hand away. “I won’t hurt you.” Silence.

His pack was gone, and I had given the last of my available fabric to Cullen. Nanethil’s clothes were in tatters, thanks to the Terror Demon’s work. Without anything to bind his wound with, I knew I could offer him no aid. Gripping his ear like that was probably for the best, anyway. I recited a prayer with him, asking for the Maker to bless him in a way that I could not, and went about finding the rest of my people.

Save perhaps for the night I escaped Haven, I don’t think I’ve ever been so exhausted. My limbs were sand; my mouth was raw; my eyes felt like they were two sizes bigger than they usually were. My head was throbbing now, too, and patches of my face still burned from where they’d touched the Revenant’s armor. My hair was so greasy and full of sweat, I could practically feel it dripping onto my face. The Herald of Andraste, indeed. I wondered if she’d ever had any days like this.

Being down in the ruin itself felt eerily oppressive. Sound didn’t seem quite right, and I wondered if maybe there was a dampening spell or some kind of old magics still in place. I called their names with my scratchy, ruined throat. The noise that came out was so strangled and pathetic, I nearly had another laughing fit. Oh, if my companions could see me now! Varric would have a grand time doing impressions, and Sera would probably shit herself laughing. Ridiculous woman. I wondered if Cullen had figured out why his desk was crooked yet.

“Your Worship?”

Grey’s face appeared at the edge of my light-sphere, blood running freely down her forehead and cheek from a nasty scratch across her scalp. “Thank the Maker!” I croaked, hurrying towards her. I gripped her by both of her shoulders, grinning down at her. “You’re alive!”

“As far as I can tell,” she said, smiling up at me in pure, rapturous relief. For a moment I thought she might even try and hug me. “We saw your battle with the Revenant. Those demons gave us quite the fight, but we held our ground. Barden swings an axe better than anyone I’ve ever seen. We...” her smile faded. “We lost Patch, though.”

My heart sank. Of course, it would be too much to hope that we hadn’t sustained any casualties. “And Triston?”

“We can’t find him. He wasn’t with us for either battle. I think...I think he may have run off, or that maybe one of the Rage Demons got him before we could get there.”

I nodded. “Nanethil, Sela, and the Commander are all still alive. Nanethil is badly wounded, though. And if we don’t get help, I fear the Commander...” I didn’t finish the sentence. A dangerous lump formed in my throat even at the thought. Too tired; couldn’t filter.

“Do you think they’ll come for us?” Grey asked.

“Maker, I hope so.” We’d worked hard to stay alive. At this point, the thought of being done in by starvation or dehydration was just insulting. “Can Barden walk?”

“I think he’d like to try,” Grey said, suddenly grinning again. I tried not to mimic her, wondering how close those two had become since the start of our little adventure.

As it turned out, Barden could walk, and spent the entire trip back to the others excitedly regaling me with the details of his battle with the Rage Demon. He was especially enthusiastic about the parts where I had “saved him from on high”, which made me sound like some kind of vengeful goddess instead of an extremely tired, extremely desperate career archer with a nicely enchanted bow. I told him how quickly that story would have had a different ending if he hadn’t been so skilled; and aside from Cullen, I think that was the first time I’d ever made a grown man blush.

We found Triston on the way back. There was...not much left. Just a burned-out husk where a Rage Demon had done its foul work. I recited a prayer over his body, disgusted with with how inadequate every single word felt. He had been someone’s son; someone’s friend; maybe someone’s lover. And now all I could do was pray. It wasn’t fair.

On the balcony, everyone was where I had left them. Somehow, Grey was able to get Nanethil moving, though he still refused to speak. We guided him over to the others and finally, after what felt like an age, reassembled our party.

I relieved Sela, sitting next to Cullen. I slid my hand into his, and finally let myself relax a little.

He smiled up at me. “You always take me to the nicest places,” he said.

“My Great-aunt always said that if you want to keep a man, you have to be interesting. I’m not sure if this is what she had in mind; then again, I’ve always been somewhat of an overachiever.”

He laughed at that, though it ended up turning into a cough. I watched him wince in pain, and hated it. Still, he was smiling again when he finished. “A wise woman. Perhaps I’ll meet her someday.”

“You say that now, but...wait a moment, wasn’t I the one suggesting family visits earlier? And then a certain someone turned me down flat?”

“That was different.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Is it now? Well, I’ll make sure to write Mia and tell her you said that.”

A look of panic crossed his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“I am a capricious and enigmatic figure, prone to many a changing whim.” I tilted my dirty, bloodied head and tried to look regal. Keeping his face in the corner of my eye, I let him struggle to decide whether or not I was serious for a moment, then winked at him. “You were right,” I said, grinning now. “I _have_ been spending too much time with Varric.”

His sigh of relief and little half-smile were deeply satisfying. “If we were alone...” he said, using that quiet tone that always went right through me.

“Hush,” I said, trying to look casual even as my heart sped up. “You’ll make me lose my Inquisitorial aura.”

“That won’t be all you’ll lose if I--”

A wave of blinding light suddenly washed across the cavern. My head blossomed with pain at the sudden intrusion. and for a horrible moment I thought a Rift had opened up right on top of us. But then I heard voices, and not the kind that ask you for your soul.

“Inquisitor? Commander? Are you here!?” shouted a familiar voice.

“Dorian?” I croaked, blinking against the visual onslaught. ‘Sparkler’, indeed. “Dorian! We’re over here! We have wounded!”

“They’re alive! Thank the Maker!” Cassandra’s voice, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. My eyes were starting to adjust now. Some of the others were getting up, walking forward to greet our rescuers. I heard Grey’s voice, crisply offering a report to Cassandra, and Barden ordering someone to be careful with Nanethil. I was so happy to hear their voices, I almost started crying again. Maker’s breath, why is it you always want to weep at the worst possible moments? I felt Cullen squeeze my hand, and I returned the gesture with profound relief that this awful place would not be his grave.

A blurry silhouette crouched in front of me, followed by a second, shorter silhouette. “Well Sparkler, this is one bet I’m happy to lose.” said another familiar voice.

I smiled. “Hello, Varric. I hope we didn’t damage your purse too badly.”

He laughed. “Oh don’t worry, I’m sure Curly will be happy to help me make up the difference.”

“I thought I made it quite clear that I am _never_ playing cards with you again, dwarf,” growled Cullen. “Once was enough. _More_ than enough.”

“Are you sure, Commander?” said Dorian, his tone one of perfect innocence. “Personally, I could stand to see you lose several more hands of Wicked Grace.”

I could practically hear Cullen grinding his teeth in frustration, and it was all I could do not to laugh.

“So, Inquisitor,” said Varric, coming into focus for me at last. “Just how _did_ you end up in a creepy underground ruin behind a wall of debris so thick it took three mages just to punch a hole in it?”

I sighed. “It’s a long story...”


End file.
